She, In the Mountains
by UnitConversions
Summary: A young woman struggles with the hardships and psychological trauma that comes with fighting to survive after the fall of humanity, impossible decisions, and the devastating loneliness that comes with it. Psychological/Horror
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

SHE squatted, perched absentmindedly in the tall tress. The soft snow crunched beneath her boots, and crumbled from the branches. The winter weather bit at her pinked nose, and her cheeks felt the nibbling of the cold frost. Her hands looked pale, and she brought herself closer in an attempt for warmth.

It was the third winter after the FALL. A dear blinding light from the sun came down above her. The dead branches looked sad in the winter, she thought. Her gear was tied around the middle section of the tree, left there to keep her balance steady while she was up so high, but high enough not to be stolen or ruined by some wandering dog or raccoon. A breeze tickled her short light hair, sending a chill down her neck. She liked it short- her hair that is. Very short, but still long enough to accommodate her habit of twisting it in her fingers. It stayed out of the way in that condition. She mused at what her mother would have thought of her with such short, boyish hair. "How are you going to find a man now, young lady?" her mother would have scolded.

Concentrate. This was hunting. This was about survival, this was about her. Most of the game in the forest had gone into hibernation by now, except for the occasional rabbit, which she picked off now and again. But today, the third week of the month was left reserved for hunting the birds still left in the whipping trees.

She unsheathed an arrow, looking at the strong, sharp tip. It prickled her finger at the touch. Her bow, something she had stolen a long while ago from some Hunters, back in when she lived in the city, played across her fingers. It was large for her, painted gray and black with complicated looking mechanisms all over it. She tried to learn how it worked in case she ever had to repair, but it was so complicated and so intricate, so she settled on just being very, very delicate with it.

All of a sudden there it was the black and brown bird, the type that appears ever so often in these mountains. Speckled feathers, and a slight, slight red undercoat. She would like to know the name of it someday, the name of the bird that has been sustaining her life for over 12 months now. And the rabbits, but rabbits are just rabbits, she thought. She felt like it would give the species a sense of respect. Happily, the thing hopped from branch to branch, cheeping.

She strung her expert bow, feeling the wire repent under her patterned hand. Aiming, aiming, aiming. Calculating. When will it hop again? Is she steady enough? Will the breeze be a problem? Don't move, don't move, silence.

A quick release: a sharp fire. The arrow clipped the bird straight through its soft red breast, pinning it to the next tree. No sound emitted from the beak. It was dead in seconds. The soft red turned into a sickening, satisfying bright curdling maroon. It reminded her of roses. The red stained the white snow on the tree, tainting it.

She began to rise from her perch, steadying herself. The tree was a few meters away, but luckily there were enough in-between thick branches to hop across. Once reaching the poor bird, she withdrew the arrow, wiped the great red on the grayed bark, and tied the limp thing to her belt. She took a moment, looking into the red.

AUTHORS NOTE:

Ok 2nd chapter written, will continue if there's enough activity on this story. I'll take suggestions, comments, whatever.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

She looked outside the bunker, past the reinforced windows and the frosty, cold steel walls, and into the white forest. The trees whispered to her. They told her secrets. Secrets of the sun and the moon, the secrets that could make you gasp, secrets that are meant to stay hidden. The bark giggled, the bushes sighed. They spoke to her through the messages in the light, the way the branches scribbled writtings in the shadows, and the soft sounds of bark moaning in the cold.

Sometimes she would lose herself, looking into the forest. Night or day, it always held a mystery to her. Sometimes it would calm her, but more often than not it made her anxious. What could be lying just across her vision? She knew the possibilities, and it made her stomach colder than it already was.

The bird roasted on the fire pit. A strong, greasy smell warmed her head. She had plucked the feathers, and tied them onto new wooden arrows, like the manual that she found stored in the basement said to, well, that is after she cleared out the Left. Thinking about the Left always makes her sad. How could somebody commit suicide when their not even infected? Or force others to as well? There's always hope, she reminded herself. Always, so just stay surviving.

Arrows break a lot, she grumbled. And they're tedious to make, as well. But it's better than risking a gun, what with any of Them around. From the bones she'll make some new tools, maybe upgrade the gear that has been wearing out.

It's been 30 days since the last sighting. She started hoping that maybe the cold finally finished the rest of Them off, or at least the ones in her mountain. Her mountain. It's been a year now, since she has seen anyone else. She's lonely. Sometimes she thinks about what could be out there. Maybe she's the last one, maybe there's no one else, and she's dwindling her youth in a bunkerd cabin out in the middle of no where.

Or worse, maybe there has been a cure. Maybe children once again laughed and played in the parks, in the bookstores, in stores. Maybe mothers scolded, and fathers went back to looking over the newspaper. Maybe her family found each other, maybe they missed her like she missed them. Maybe it's all over, and she'll have already become too paranoid to come out in time to see that everything's ok. She worried that she'll end up an old woman by the time anyone comes out here and stumbles upon her sad, reclused home. That she'll stay here, trapped, forever.

The trees whispered.

She was lonely.

(AUTHORS NOTE: chp 3 done, again, if there's activity or suggestions, i'll keep going)


End file.
